


Seeds of Discord Part 37

by kbj1123



Series: Wonder Woman & Captain America [38]
Category: Captain America (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - World War II, Crossover Pairings, Dream Sequence, F/M, One True Pairing, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbj1123/pseuds/kbj1123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone or something is causing violent riots to erupt all over the U.S., and whatever it is, it wreaks havoc with both Wonder Woman's health and Bruce Banner's ability to keep his rage in check.</p><p>An unsettling experience for Steve--he isn't sure whether it's memory, premonition, or something else altogether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeds of Discord Part 37

It is past midnight, but it is neither dark nor light outside. There is only dull, gray fog, flecked with dust particles and occasionally, patches of smoke. Steve can’t see more than a foot or two in front of him in any direction. He has no idea how many men are still with him because his ears are ringing from the last few land mine explosions. He has his weapon at the ready: a Marlin. He hates guns. He hates fighting in a way that makes the outcome so…final. The entire woods smells like blood and burning chemicals. If his eyes weren’t tearing so much, he’d be able to read his compass and at least reassure himself he was moving in the right direction. He’s dived (or fallen) into holes and trenches so many times by now, he could be heading back to base or towards some inconsequential village by now. “So to recap,” he thinks: “I have no idea where I am, how many men I have left, or even what time of day or night it is.” Even his mission is nebulous at best. “Retrieve whatever is left of our asset. You’ll know it when you see it.” Somewhere, Red Skull’s men are holding something or someone that can drastically alter the War’s outcome. He feels as if his boots are made from paper, and knives thrust into the soles of his feet with every step. “Quit bitching, Rogers,” he says to himself. “You’re alive, you’re serving a great cause, and everyone’s depending on you. This is what you wanted, right?” He can’t help thinking he’s forgetting something vitally important, though. 

He senses at least two or three other human beings close by. When he can hear a little, he whistles his company’s signal and they respond. So there’s that at least. Of the ten men on his original team, three and himself remain. Whatever it is they’re getting, it had better be damned worth six lives. It begins to rain. By the time the fog and smoke clear (or they’ve past it), the storm is so heavy their boots nearly come off their feet as they make their way through the thick mud. About an hour later, they see their target: a typical, dilapidated farmhouse. Its red paint is peeling and faded, and the pasture around it and the ruined barn has gone to muddy weeds. He motions the men toward the barn. They create makeshift ghillie suits out of wet grass and branches. Even Steve’s Captain America costume is soaked to the point of blackness, so it isn’t too hard to fade into the dreary scenery. They take a circuitous route around the edge of the property until they make it to the barn without the dozen or so guards ever noticing them. There, they find shelter in places where the roof doesn’t leak, sit on some dry, dirty hay bales, and check their weapons and equipment. Weapons get cleaned and dried out, and then re-loaded. They all take off their boots and change into dry t-shirts and socks. It’s useless to try to let the uniforms dry. The whole world is simply too cold and damp. So they put their drenched outer layers on top of their temporarily clean undergarments. It’s something, at least. They look at the layout of the property and the house on the map that Steve had been given by the General. Their target is in a hidden subbasement. All they know is how to get to that level, but they have no idea whether there are rooms or even other levels below. He can tell they’re all thinking the same thing: they’ve literally been sent to descend into the rungs of Hell. Steve has been cast as the unlikely hero of Inferno, and Virgil does not have a role in this particular drama. “Okay. We’re gonna keep watch in shifts and sleep until nightfall. At midnight, we go in. Get some sleep, fellas.” 

About six hours later, the whole world is dark and clear. Steve peers through the split, warped slats of the barn wall. For just a few seconds, he wistfully thinks about oil paint and wishes he had an easel and a palate. Oils were never his strong suit in school, but the sky is pure black punctured by tiny, perfect silver circles. The men are ready to storm the farm house. They know where to find the cellar entrance, and they know that’s where they should find the asset, which they will apparently recognize when they see it (or him). He gives the signal to move.

There are a half-dozen guards near the rear of the house, all of whom they take out easily. Not a shot is fired. He knows his troops are frustrated with his “no shooting, no killing” advisory. If he can incapacitate enemies and take them prisoner, he’d rather do that than leave corpses behind, even Nazi corpses. Nevertheless, aside from a couple of shouts of surprise and some grunting, the guards are down for the count. Steve opens the cellar doors and leads the descent. They don’t make it all the way down the rickety stairs before all Hell breaks loose. He grabs Private Solomon by the arm and yanks him to the ground to duck under the hail of machine gun fire. Sergeant Jason and Privates Frost and Langdon go down. So now there are three of them: Bucky, Private Solomon, whose shoulder is now dislocated, and himself. The three of them fire back. Even Steve knows better than to bring fists and a shield to a machine gun fight. With Steve’s shield protecting them, they fight their way single file down the stairs, maneuvering past the enemy and friendly corpses that slide past their feet.

The basement itself is well lit with hanging incandescent lights. Long tables containing scientific apparatus line two walls. There are some desks and filing cabinets, and in the corner is what looks like a floor to ceiling cage. There are a couple of high-ranking Nazi officers, four scientists (he can tell by the compulsory white lab coats), and the man of the hour himself, Red Skull. Solomon coralls the scientists into a corner. Before Steve can order otherwise, Bucky shoots both officers. “Dammit, Bucky!” Steve yells. He doesn’t have time to discipline his friend though. “Where is it?” Steve threatens Red Skull. He points his pistol in his direction. Everyone in the room knows he’s unlikely to use it. “You have United States property and I’m here to retrieve it and you.”

Red Skull smiles grotesquely. It occurs to Steve that pretty much every expression of Red Skull’s is grotesque in its own right. “You don’t even know what you’re looking for! You fool!” he tells Steve. “Well, ‘it’ and I are going nowhere. You can indeed join ‘it,’ though.” He gestures toward one of the scientists held at Solomon’s gunpoint in the corner of the room. “In fact I insist—you will both provide me with much-needed insight, isn’t that correct Doctor Zola?” Red Skull has been standing just in front of the cage by the wall. Steve can’t see what’s in it. Suddenly Solomon screams. A scientist has thrown something acidic in his face and Bucky shoots the scientist. He spins around in time to see Zola shoot what looks like a ray of electrical strings at Bucky, and Bucky shouts in pain and falls to the ground in a kind of twitching spasm. When he spins back to face Red Skull, he sees small, feminine hands bound by shackles on the wall behind the bars of the cage. He feels his whole body stiffen and he breaks into a cold sweat. He’s panicked. 

He jerks awake as the plane begins its descent over a remote area in Nebraska. “Some dream there,” Tony tells him from across the aisle. Next to Tony, Thor snores himself awake. Tony smiles and asks, “Does Diana ever get any sleep?”


End file.
